post 4x6 "Hopeless Sinners"
tags: guilt/self-blame, friendship, comfort.
-x-
"I always think I'm right. Maybe I'm just righteous."
Chris's words refuse to leave Street alone.
Zoey is safe. The Bishop is dead. It's over.
Street knows he should feel relieved. That he should drive to the house and toss back a beer and sleep easy with another job well done under 20 Squad's belt.
Instead, every time he closes his eyes, Street sees Deacon telling Chris that she needs to ID a body and hears her words from the kitchen.
Dylan's dead, too.
And Chris thinks it's her fault.
His stomach sinks for her, going deeper every time her face focuses in his mind, and the rush of emotions that passed over her before she buried them so no one saw.
By the time he's done in the range getting in some extra shots with his non-dominant hand, Chris is no longer at the speed bag, hitting it relentlessly until her thoughts fall away to the rhythm of her knuckles on leather.
"She left like half an hour ago." Rocker tells him as he passes, seeing where Street's looking.
Street weighs his options as he showers and changes. It's not implausible that Chris will want to be alone, but she'll answer her door anyway.
So he turns left instead of right out of HQ.
Chris's truck is parked along the curb near Helena and Sarzo's house. Street runs his hand over the hood as he passes it, trying to distill some of his nerves about dropping in on her without warning.
It's far more direct than standing in the kitchen and quietly hydrating until Chris decides to talk.
Biting down his fears that she'll slam the door in his face, Street knocks.
"One second." He hears, followed by her traversing the garage and swearing when she bumps into something. Chris swings the door open, eyes widening when she sees Street.
"Hey. What're you doing here?"
Street's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His mind races for something to say, because he didn't think this far ahead and he doubts she'll be receptive to "I spend most of my days so attuned to you that it's hard to let it go when something's not right."
"Street?" Chris asks, in a harsher tone, to pull him back to her.
"Sorry!" Street chuckles. "We didn't really get to finish our conversation earlier. I wanted to offer, if you want to. But I'll go."
He turns on his heel, prepared to leave without another word or beg her to not bring this up again, when she stops him with a hand on his shoulder.
Chris can't tell exactly what he's getting at, aside from the nagging warmth in her stomach that it's out of care for her, but his erraticism warrants an explanation. She guides Street into the garage, lets him toe his boots off, and sits him on the edge of the twin bed before returning to where she was, cross-legged on the floor surrounded by unfolded clothes.
"What are you…?" Street asks, eyes trailing over the garage. Boxes and suitcases are laid out all over with various objects within, and he looks back at Chris to see her folding and stacking shirts like it's nothing.
Sighing, Chris gives Street a small smile when she meets his eyes. It still doesn't feel real, stepping from this chapter of her life into the next, hopefully better, one, but telling him first is fitting.
"Erika and I found a place. We don't move in until next month, but I want to get in there as soon as I can."
"Chris!" Street exclaims. "That's awesome, I'm happy for you guys."
His joy for her is infectious, and a blush starts to creep up Chris's neck that she coughs to temper.
"Thanks. I'm wary of telling everyone in case people start making sleepover jokes, but I'm excited."
"You should be," Street tells her, pride lining his voice. "Both of you, I hope it works out."
Chris nods, unsure of what to say. A comfortable silence falls over them.
The energy settles, and Street's mind returns to the reason he came here in the first place. He questions whether to even bring it up, warring between how Chris seems fine now, and how Chris always seems fine, which is the problem.
"Want an extra set of hands?" He asks, sliding off the bed onto another small square of open floor when Chris says sure.
Every few minutes, Street glances at Chris, and she can feel his eyes on her as bright as a spotlight. He's calmer, at least, but there's something he isn't saying and it puts Chris on edge. The thought of Dylan floats in her stomach. What Street said in the doorway sinks in.
"We didn't really get to finish our conversation earlier."
There's only one conversation Street could be talking about. Chris inhales as deeply as she can.
"I'm fine."
Her voice is sure. Street looks up from the Lakers shirt in his hands, tilting his head like he's not sure what she means.
"The case. Dylan. It's fine." Chris continues, though she clears her throat before she can get Dylan's name out, and Street doesn't believe a thing she's saying.
Sighing, Street puts his folded shirt down and doesn't pick up another, but he doesn't stop Chris, giving her an excuse not to look at him and something to busy her hands.
"It isn't your fault, Chris."
"I—"
"You don't know," Street interrupts, "or it wouldn't be lingering over you like it is. What happened was tragic, but you didn't kill him. You did help save Zoey and all those other kids."
Chris stills. Her eyes are locked on the heather gray fabric and how it feels in her hands as she searches for what to say that'll appease Street.
"Okay. Thanks." She says, shrugging like this conversation can end.
"I know that doesn't make what happened any easier to swallow." Street says, wishing she would look at him.
"But you're a great cop, Chris, and things would be a lot worse if you didn't follow your instinct and push the rest of us to pursue this, too."
Exhaling, Chris presses her lips into a tight line as she lets her eyes travel over the room. Stacks of clothes and vinyls sit haphazardly on every available surface. Out of nowhere, a flash of a bench outside a police station hits her. Chris shakes it off before it can sink in, but it sticks enough to make her talk.
"Someone had to call Dylan's family," Chris says, as she meets Street's eyes. "To inform them. I know most of those kids are better off now, that doesn't change that he isn't. We can't justify trading lives, Street."
"We don't," Street counters, leaving no room for disagreement. Seeing the tension in her body, he's softer when he continues.
"And we didn't today, Chris. Dylan knew the risks, he chose to—"
"Dylan trusted me." Chris cuts him off. Her eyes are like steel, but betrayed by the shame in her tone. With a small shake of her head, Chris folds the shirt she has and tosses it to the side, picking up another with more force than necessary. Watching her carefully, letting the silence linger, Street grabs a pair of jeans to busy his hands with as he waits.
"He asked for my help. He shouldn't have had to die in the process of getting it. I heard him yell, I saw the car drive off. And then we found him dead."
Her volume falls the longer she talks, anger morphing into a heavy sadness. It's familiar to Street, the whole team, courtesy of their job, and he's found it never gets easier to deal with except through time.
Knowing they can't save everyone isn't a comfort.
"You did what you could in the moment." Street tries. "You called Hondo, we found the house. There was no way to shoot across a parking lot and lanes of traffic to stop the car."
Taking a deep breath, Street sets the jeans down and reaches across the small expanse to set his hands on hers, stopping them from making another fold. Chris freezes, and he waits for her to look at him.
"I wish I had a better answer for you, Chris. You and Dylan were both right. Those kids needed help, Dylan trusted you to help them, and you did. Miller's gone. It doesn't feel like a win, but it is. There's nothing more we can do on days like today."
Chris feels her shoulders relax as the words soak in. She doesn't know how Street always manages to smooth her edges over, but she doesn't question it. His hands still on hers, she nods and says okay.
"Thank you, Street. I needed to hear that."
Smiling, Street gives her a quick squeeze and then turns back to the denim in his lap, not dragging anything out that doesn't need it.
"I know you pretty well, too, don't forget that." He says, with a small wink.
He adds the jeans to the stack on his side, and then sees Chris watching him carefully in his periphery while he grabs his phone from his back pocket.
"Have you eaten dinner?"
The mention of food makes Chris aware of how hungry she is, and she shakes her head.
"Pizza's on me, then." Street says, standing to place an order before Chris can protest.
Waiting for him to finish, Chris stands and puts the clothes they've gotten folded into a box that sits on her bed, surprised that the floor is nearly clear when she's done. She moves the box to the floor at the foot of the bed, and turns to sit back down on the rug just as Street is behind her. He sets a hand on her shoulder to slide past.
"It'll be here in half an hour. Extra garlic knots." He teases.
"You didn't have to do that," Chris argues.
"I know," Street retorts, eyes clocking the organized chaos again. "But call this my 'pre-move' helping, so everyone else gets to carry the heavy boxes."
Chris rolls her eyes, but laughs, making Street smile wider. He feigns hurt when she balls up one of the few shirts left and tosses it at him.
"Finish helping me fold, and we'll see."
-x-
hello! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! i started this one a while back after i first rewatched 4x6, but i wasn't quite sure where to go with it until today (i'm in quarantine so i have lots of free time for the next two days). i may write another piece for 4x6 depending, but overall, i'm happy with how this one turned out! my rewatch is officially over, so i'll be going through episode-by-episode now (clearly not in chronological order lol). might try to focus on Street for a few chapters, since i tend to skew towards Chris at all times, but we'll see. again, comments/kudos/suggestions/etc always appreciated! i love reading them and hearing everyone's thoughts on the show in general and how things play out, all the different connections everyone makes! so thank you to everyone who takes a second of their day to comment! xo, Allie